


This is Going to Hurt

by SaadieStuff



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Future Fic, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Physical Pain, mentions of alien torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 09:10:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18808111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaadieStuff/pseuds/SaadieStuff
Summary: For the anonymous prompt I received on tumblr: This is going to hurt.Taking place post-1x13, Liz, Isobel, Rosa, and Michael try to find answers to help them bring Max back to life. But things go wrong and Michael gets hurt. They call for back-up. Then their back-up calls for back-up.





	This is Going to Hurt

“This is going to hurt,” Kyle warns Michael, like he's not already been writhing in intermittent pain the last half hour, though Kyle's only been present for the last five minutes.

“Just hurry up!” Michael groans at him, “I could have had this out--”

“I told you,” Kyle starts repeating what he’d said on the phone when Michael and Liz had called him for help, “If you move the bullet out with your mind and don’t follow the exact same path it went in, you could do more damage; damage I may not be able to fix without a proper O-R and team of doctors!"

Michael can only whimper in protest, his eyes going wide as Kyle nears with sharp, shiny, medical instruments.

“It’s going to hurt,” Kyle says again, “but not nearly as much as that bullet seems to be hurting you when you use your powers, okay?”

“You’re going to be alright Mikey,” Liz says soothingly, rubbing his shoulder, “Try to stay calm and still,” she continues, stating the obvious, but feeling it needs to be said for how sweaty Michael is getting, and the frequency with which he’s quivering under the palm of her hand. She glances nervously at Kyle.

Kyle gets the hint. “Rosa, maybe you could help us out over here for a minute… How’s Isobel doing?”

“Still breathing the way you said she should be, pulse the same - still out cold,” Rosa says from across the bunker.

“Okay, good, come over here, help Liz…” _hold him down_ , “...keep Michael distracted…”

It does _not_ go well.

The second Kyle’s instruments touch Michael, he feels his barely-there grip on his powers begin to slip away, and at the first hint of pain Kyle causes, he _loses_ it. Liz, Rosa, and Kyle end up tossed on the ground.

And that only causes Michael more pain.

It’s blinding, worse than the last hit - he's screaming so loud he can’t hear himself. As that pain triggers his powers _again_ , something shatters across the room. Michael scrambles desperately to get a hold of himself before it snowballs too far - before he’s lost forever in this vicious cycle until put out of his misery.

But he can’t breathe for how much it hurts, pain radiating from the bullet to the tips of his fingers, toes, ears - for the feeling of his world closing in on him, his powers causing such anguish - a _deep_ betrayal. It’s different than all the times they’d made him feel like death and puke. No, this, _this_ is forming new pathways, new connections in his brain that make him feel sick with loss in way he doesn’t have the strength to examine now. _Powers equal pain._

“NO!” Michael shouts at the invisible enemy, wracking his whole body with the effort.

“Michael, you need to breathe!” Liz calls out, having gotten up off the floor and taken a step towards him.

“Don’t!” Michael whines to keep her away as he curls in on himself. Under the fog of pain and his tenuous hold on control, he subconsciously contemplates rolling off the table, because much as that would hurt, he really doesn’t want to be splayed out on a fucking table right now, especially with Kyle’s shiny tools aimed at him.

Kyle groans on the ground, having been thrown the hardest. Rosa offers him a hand up.

Kyle shakes his head, “I need a minute,” he says a little hoarsely, “but bring me a phone.”

Liz knows who Kyle is calling. There is only one other person on their side who knows about aliens and who isn’t currently present in the bunker or dead in a pod.

“Are you sure?” Liz asks quietly, turning away from Michael, “He’s still pretty upset at Michael I think…”

“I know. Who do you think he vented to,” _cried to_ , at least twice, “while Michael and Maria were together?”

“But then... is Alex going to make him calm, or worse?” Rosa asks, handing him her phone she'd retrieved.

“They have a _connection,_ Alex was always babbling about it,” Kyle explains. He's only flippant to diminish the weight of what isn't his to tell.

“He’ll calm him,” Liz says knowingly in answer to Rosa’s question, while feeling a sharp pang of loss for Max.

“Manes, pick up your damn phone,” Kyle hisses as the line rings, then, “Alex! Listen, Liz, Isobel, and Michael were doing some investigating of their own and got into some trouble with a recon. Michael got shot with a-- yes he’s-- the bunker-- Michael’s bunker. We need--” _Click._

"Did he hang up on you?" Rosa asks.

"He’s coming,” Liz and Kyle say together.

Alex opens the lid of the bunker to Michael’s choked-off yelling. He half falls down the ladder in his rush to get in, close the lid, and get down.

" _I gotta!_ I can't take it! I'm doing it myself!"

"No! Guerin-- Michael, listen to me! You have to let me do it!” Kyle pleads from several feet away, afraid to set Michael off again.

“What the hell is going on?” Alex shouts as he turns into the room, spotting Michael, blood pooling at his side on the table, gripping the edge of it, puke on the ground below.

“Alex?” Michael croaks out questioningly between panting breaths.

Alex is at his side in seconds. He finds Liz smoothly tucking a chair under him as he crouches to Michael’s eye level.

“Hey, hey,” Alex says softly, one hand going to stroke Michael’s hair, the other taking a white-knuckled hand from the table’s edge into its grasp, “I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Alex--” Michael starts.

“Shh,” Alex hums, and dips to kiss Michael’s forehead, “Someone else can fill me in, huh? Just breathe. You’re going to be fine. Right?” he quickly looks over his shoulder to Kyle for reassurance. He's scared. Michael looks _really_ bad, can't seem to stop shaking, and Alex gets the impression Michael is about ready to crawl out of his skin.

“I haven’t been able to get a great look, but if he’ll let me take that bullet out - the way it came in - and stop the blood loss soon, I think he’ll be fine even without a hospital.”

“Good, that’s good,” Alex says, really to himself, but his concern only grows, “Then what are you waiting for?” Surely they hadn’t been waiting for him to arrive. Alex knows Michael can take some pain, and Alex hadn’t been around to see him through most of it. Michael certainly doesn’t need Alex to hold his hand to get a bullet taken out of his side.

“We tried already, just before calling you. He threw us all onto the floor,” Liz explains.

“Okay… well, did you give him some acetone? Help with the control and the pain?” Alex suggests.

“Of course, but it’s not that simple,” Kyle explains, shaking his head, “He’s _freaking out,_ Alex - the bullet is some kind of smart bullet? Like a shock collar for alien powers.”

“What?” Alex says, eyes wide.

“It seems to cause him pain every time he uses his powers. Then the pain - it's intense enough to trigger him to lash out with his powers again - an involuntary survival instinct I guess?”

Alex shudders, swallowing hard. He has to wonder if Michael wants him anywhere near him, even though Michael is clinging to him like the last port in a storm, because no doubt this fancy bullet torturing him is something his father cooked up - his brothers even. Alex feels ill at the thought, but he buries it - the last thing they need is another one of them throwing up. Rosa is looking a little green over the blood as it is. 

“He's gotten caught in it three times already. First when he used his powers to move Isobel and get us into the bunker. Then when Kyle tried to get the bullet out,” Liz explains.

"And just before Kyle got here he lost it out of nowhere," Rosa adds.

“Alex," Kyle says, gulping, "I don't know if he has it in him to pull out of the cycle another time… If he gets trapped in it..."

“We should-- We should take him to a pod while we--” Alex’s mind reels for solutions, and finally, frustrated, he snaps, “Why didn’t you take him straight into a pod until we could figure this out?”

“He was fine until-- well, shot and bleeding a little, but fine, until we got here and he went to move Isobel and the airstream,” Liz tells him, “But I don’t know if we can move him now without setting him off.”

“Not an option. We need to do this now. The blood loss is getting too bad and we can only transfuse so much from Isobel. You said she’s a match Liz?”

“If my alien blood typing is right?”

“And what’s wrong with Isobel?” Alex asks, realizing he hasn’t even been brought fully up to speed, “What were you even doing?”

“We were trying to get our hands on some research, hoping it would help Isobel and Michael figure out how heal like Max, so they could bring him back,” Liz looks ashamed, feeling it’s her fault, though in truth she knows Isobel and Michael would have done it with or without her, “And Isobel, she had to mess with a lot of people’s mind to get us out safely when it went wrong. After a lot of vomiting she passed out cold.”

Alex shakes his head, because none of that information helps Michael right now. He turns his attention back to him, stroking over his face, then back into his hair.

"Michael, Michael, look at me, you're going to let Kyle take it out. You're going to take a deep breath and hold it, and you're going to squeeze my hand, and focus on my voice, and not use your powers.”

“I can’t-- I don’t-- have-- control--” Michael sobs out.

“You _can._ You just have hang on for two minutes while he takes it out, okay?" Alex promises him.

"I might need more--" Kyle starts, but, Alex shoots him a look over his shoulder that shuts him up.

“And it's going to feel so much better when it's out. Then it’s just a regular old flesh wound needing some stitches, right?" Alex soothes.

Michael shakes his head. “Knock me out," he whimpers, “ _Please_.”

"I don’t know if the sedative I have would work. And between the blood loss and your alien biology it could be dangerous without monitoring--"

"Hit me-- over the head,” Michael rasps out.

"No!" Alex and Kyle say in unison.

Michael groans, resigned, and pulls Alex’s hand closer to his chest.

“Valenti, do it,” Alex orders.

“Alex... you _need_ to keep him from--”

“I’ve got it,” Alex assures him, though he’s not so sure himself. Michael is strong, but he must feel so trapped, and there's only so much Alex can do to help him through.

“Should we help?” Liz asks.

“No, I think-- I think give us space,” Alex says.

“Roll back on your stomach Guerin,” Kyle instructs.

Michael moves gingerly - Alex helps him. They arrange themselves so Michael is gripping Alex’s left hand in his, while Alex’s right hand dances from Michael’s shoulder blades, over his neck, then dragging into his hair, over and over, with his face hovering close to Michael’s.

"I can't take more," Michael sniffles out quietly, so only Alex can hear.

"I know, I know," Alex whispers back, "But you've gotta keep holding on for me, alright? You're doing so good."

They succeed, but just barely. In the end, Michael has done more damage to the bunker, he’s screamed enough to wake Isobel, Alex is in tears, and Kyle ends up knocked on his ass again - but with the bullet safely in hand.

After getting through the stitches, they all head to Alex’s cabin for much needed rest, and to monitor Isobel and Michael closely.

“Presumptuous of Kyle to put me in your room,” Michael says from Alex’s bed when Alex appears in the doorway, Michael's blood freshly showered off him.

Alex huffs a nervous laugh, “Yeah. Um, do you want me to stay or…”

“Stay,” Michael stays without hesitation, then adds, “I mean, if you want…”

Alex bites his lip as he steps into the room and turns to close the door. Michael beats him to it.

Tears burn in Michael’s eyes to find that using his powers doesn’t cause him excruciating pain. Though logically he’d known the bullet was gone, he’d been waiting to screw up his courage to test it out. He’d been waiting for Alex to be near, just in case.

Alex gives Michael space to settle into his relief, which is palpable from across the room. Alex makes his way around the bedroom slowly, in silence, as he changes into pajamas and takes off his prosthetic. Only then does he lie down next to Michael.

“I hope these aren’t your favourite PJs,” Michael says, gesturing to the borrowed garments he’s wearing, “I may bleed on them.”

“It’s fine,” Alex says, taking a deep breath and letting it out as he rolls closer, onto his side, “I want to kiss you, but I understand if--”

Michael puts a finger to Alex’s lips to hush him. “You didn’t make those bullets. You didn’t torture my family.”

Alex takes Michael’s hand and moves it away. “Maybe I would have, if my father didn’t hate me. If he’d brought me into his work, told me aliens were dangerous--”

“No--”

“I’m capable of things Michael,” Alex admits, flopping onto his back and staring at the ceiling, “Things that--”

“Alex, stop,” Michael pleads, turning his head to the side to watch Alex, wanting to move off his back, to close the distance between them, real and imagined, but it hurts to shift. The best he can manage is to sling his arm out for his knuckles to brush up and down over Alex’s chest.

“I can’t ever make it right,” Alex says softly, a tear rolling down his cheek as he catches Michael’s hand in his and holds it against his heart.

“Listen to me. You are _not_ your father. And I'm saying that even while I can still feel the ache from that bullet in every inch of my body, knowing that it’s hardly a fraction of what your father probably put my mother through, _for years_. No, you’re the man who held me, who talked me through something I thought was impossible, who cried because _I_ was in pain. And did all of that even though you’re probably still pissed at me and have every right to be.”

It feels wrong for Michael to be the one comforting him in this moment. Alex wipes his hand over his face, and sniffling, pulls it together, managing to meet Michael with a smile when he rolls over and into him, claiming his lips in a softly desperate kiss. It’s been many long months.

“Is this--” Michael stutters out between kisses.

Alex stops and pulls back an inch.

“Is this just…” Michael gulps, “I-almost-died and you-were-scared sex?”

“Yes... and a lot more...” Alex says tenderly, “But we’re not having sex.”

“Oh,” Michael says, sounding disappointed. Everything hurts, and he wouldn’t mind feeling something else.

“Not that I don’t want to,” Alex clarifies, because he would, in fact, love to get as _close_ to Michael as possible, “But you need to sleep. Plus... if we rip your stitches, I’ll have to call Valenti in here and neither of us will ever hear the end of it.”

“I can handle Valenti,” Michael smirks, and trails his fingers over Alex’s jaw.

Alex grins and strokes Michael’s face in return, then looks away, “Yeah, but I don’t know if _I_ can handle watching you in pain again while he sews you back up.”

“Oh,” Michael says again, “Maybe something less vigorous then…” He leaves the joke hanging there, waiting for Alex to decide what to do with it.

Alex responds by kissing him, slow and deep and gentle, in a way that’s been all too rare for them in the past. He pauses. “You sure?”

Michael nods, “I want...” he kisses Alex mid sentence, “...you to _touch_ _me_. I want--” he gasps, words and aches forgotten as Alex sees to answering his request.


End file.
